The Once and Future Warlock
by Handmaiden of Awesomeness
Summary: He was still half of who he used to be. Only one side of a coin, destined to live on in eternity, waiting for his king to return.
1. Prologue

The Once and Future Warlock

**Prologue: Death of a Knight**

_It is heartbreaking, the dullness of the eyes. What once were bright with life, mirth, and strength, now dimmed by pain, and sorrow. It pains the warlock more deeply than he can say. The blue eyes blink up at him, clouded. Their owner struggles to form words. Merlin shakes his head softly, moving his hand up to stroke the man's forehead. So cold. The touch of Death. He pushes up into the warlock's lap, a feeble attempt to get close, so his words could be heard._

_ "D-don't." He sighs, slumping into open arms, his head lolling back onto a chain mail covered shoulder. "Don't cry."_

_ Merlin hadn't even realized he was crying. Blue eyes lock onto blue eyes. He was losing him. His closest friend. The one who accepted him, beyond all odds. The only one left. The knight clasps his hand to Merlin's. His breath comes shakily, but his eyes stay on Merlin's._

_ "Promise." He whispers._

_ Merlin stares at him. So lost. So confused. There had to be something he could do. He had to be able to save his friend. The way he couldn't save the others. Gwaine. Arthur. Guinevere. All lost, and he hadn't been able to save them. Merlin reaches into himself, deep into his core. His magic sat there, coiled, and unreachable. He had to _try.

_ "Þurhhæle dolgbenn!" His eyes flash gold, but flicker out as his magic struggles to rise. He falls over his friend, gasping. "Wel cene hole!"_

"_Merlin." He gasps, the pain in his voice evident._

"_I can't." His voice breaks. "Don't give up on me you idiot."_

_His eyes flutter shut, his hand slips out of Merlin's, and his breath falters. Merlin's magic strains inside of him. Struggling to break free of the bonds placed on it when Arthur died. The bonds placed on it by the Old Magic that would break only when Arthur returned to save Albion. It just had to work for him. It had to work. He had to save his friend. The knight didn't deserve to die, he had a family to go back to._

"_No. I will not make a promise I cannot keep."_

_His eyes crack open, a withering look directed at Merlin, before his blue eyes widen in horror. His hand grasps at the wound in his side. A desperate gesture to hold what little life that was left to him, inside his body. _

"_Promise me!" He gasped with a strength he should not have had._

_Merlin bites back a sob, and nods. The knight smiles. A true smile, bright, and brilliant. A smile saved for the friend who had granted him his final wish. The man slumps back. His eyes lose their shine, and the rattling breath stops. The warlock leans forward, and presses his forehead to the dead man's. A tear rolls out of his eye._

"_I'm sorry." The tears break free at the same time his magic bursts forth. _

_Too late to do any good._

_._

_The battle field burns, along with everything he had ever cared for._

* * *

~By Mistress of Fandom


	2. Broken

**Chapter 1: Broken**

He wakes with a shuddering breath, the dream clinging to him like the early morning mists. It had been ten years. Ten years since the last one had died, at least the last that was important to him. Ten years since he had seen his home reborn. There was no one left. No Gaius. No Gwen. No knights. No King.

"No." Merlin whimpers.

He couldn't think about this. It would crush him. He didn't want to think about this. He took a deep breath. _He could do this. He could think about this._ Merlin turns onto his side, the bed frame groans mournfully. His mind slips back to the dream.

Percival. So kind, so happy, so strong. He had always greeted Merlin with a brotherly smack on the back, and a toothy grin. He had become his closest friend after Gwaine and Arthur died. The most _accepting_ of his magic.

Ten years. Oh Goddess, had it truly been that long? Ten years ago the Saxons had invaded. Ten years since the Queen had been murdered. Ten years since the massacre of Camelot. Ten years since all of Albion had risen and pushed out the barbaric invaders. He had been injured in the first battle. His magic bound to prevent him from extreme use until the day Arthur returned. Still, in his foolish, and stupid way, he had ridden into battle at the knight's side. He was too weak to protect himself, so the fifty-year old Captain of the Knights had protected him instead. Percival had died because of him. His fault. _It was all his fault_.

"I'm sorry." Merlin cries, curling into himself. "I'm sorry."

The warlock brings his hands to his head, the thin blanket hiding him from the tiny room around him. Hands pressed to his ears, he tries to block out the sounds of his sobs. It doesn't help. He squeezes his eyes shut. _No. _He couldn't get so upset. The shattering of clay and glass breaks him from his thoughts.

Merlin pulls the blanket down from over his eyes, and looks around his home. The top of his work table was devoid of instruments. The bowls, bottles, and jars flung across the room and into the door. His magic lashing out in turmoil. He stood, letting the blanket fall from his shoulders. Blue, tear-rimmed eyes look around the room.

It was so lonely in his forest cottage, and very few people ever came to him for help. After all, magic was no longer outlawed. The common people had court sorcerers, druids, and healers to help them. Only the truly desperate came this deep into the forests. Visitors were few and far between. It had been over a month since his last client. No one needed Merlin Emrys anymore. He looks around the room one more time, coming to a decision.

He looks down at his wrinkled hands, and his eyes flash gold. His magic, no longer restrained by the Old Religion. The skin draws tight, the white beard disappears, and the aches of old age fade. He had long ago mastered the ageing spell. He had even figured out how to make himself appear younger. He had turned back the clock to a face that no one alive remembered. Not after the massacres.

With what little self-control he had left, Merlin dashes out of the cottage. He flies through the forest, his feet leading him without prompting. Grief blinds him. The early morning gloom of the great forest presses in on him, pushing him faster.

To any other, his path would seem random. Sharp turns, steep slopes, and hungry darkness that grew with every hurried step. It was a difficult and dangerous path that the average person avoided like it was poison. To Merlin, it was the only path to take. The thrum of magic increases as he crashes through the trees.

His foot catches on a root, and he sails through the air. Merlin lands on rough stones, and his hand comes to rest in cold water. He lifts his head, blinking at the lake laid out in front of him.

"Please." He whispers to the still waters.

The magic of Avalon responds to his distress, and wraps around him. He hadn't realized how cold he was. When the blanket wraps him in its warmth, a comforting presence, he lets himself lose control. Rage, and guilt, and grief mix with the magic of the lake. The place where he had said goodbye to so many of his friends. He lays on the beach, crying, until he has no tears left.

Merlin might have his magic back, he might have shed all the tears he could, but he was still broken. He was still half of who he used to be. Only one side of a coin, destined to live on in eternity, waiting for his king to return.


End file.
